


on the tip of my tongue

by suckhwas



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Flirting, M/M, Oral Sex, a sad lack of food puns i'm so sorry, dumb misunderstandings, enemies to lovers if you squint, seonghwa is a food critic, yeosang owns a restaurant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:41:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23590102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suckhwas/pseuds/suckhwas
Summary: Yeosang doesnotwork his ass off running his restaurant for some pretty boy magazine writer to give him a shitty review.
Relationships: Kang Yeosang/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 50
Kudos: 401





	on the tip of my tongue

**Author's Note:**

> hellloooo i am back again writing another one of ania’s prompts… u can find her [her og tweet here](https://twitter.com/sharkhwa/status/1244576377204101122)!  
> im sure it is clear by now that i have absolutely no willpower when it comes to fun seongsang prompts TT____TT
> 
> please enjoy!

Yeosang knows something is up as soon as Wooyoung approaches him, a grimace plastered on his face. They’ve only _barely_ started their tasks before opening up the restaurant for the day, so Yeosang braces himself for whatever headache-inducing problem Wooyoung’s going to bring to his attention.

Wooyoung leans against the entrance to the kitchen, where Yeosang is double checking that each station was prepared properly for the day to start.

“Hey, are you familiar with Park Seonghwa?”

Yeosang wracks his brain for a quick moment between trying to locate the chopped eggplant that is _supposed_ to be on this damn station—“Uh… no? Should I?”

“He writes restaurant reviews for a couple local magazines… I follow him on Instagram.”

“Why do you follow him on Instagram?”

“His reviews are good!” Wooyoung says quickly, before waving Yeosang over. “But you need to look at this. I just saw it this morning.”

Yeosang rolls his eyes but complies, mentally trying to determine how much time they have before the rest of his staff starts showing up. Wooyoung’s phone is open to Park Seonghwa’s instagram profile, though Yeosang doesn’t get much of a look at it before Wooyoung taps on his profile picture to open his story.

“This is from yesterday,” Wooyoung explains.

Park Seonghwa’s instagram story is a photo of what is clearly a restaurant table, sweating glass of water front and center. It’s captioned with just _Working on some new reviews this week._ The corner of what Yeosang quickly recognizes as his own restaurant’s menu is off to the side.

“Okay…?” Yeosang says. Reviewers coming into the restaurant isn’t a new occurrence by any means. 

Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “Wait for the next one.”

In a few more seconds, the image automatically changes to the next post. It’s the corner of a laptop screen this time, just a handful words in focus where a sliver of a text document is visible on screen. That’s not important—it’s the caption. _Unfortunately not off to a great start :/ My full review in @TheHerald next week._

“I guess he was here yesterday? I honestly didn’t even see him, but… apparently he didn’t like what he ordered.” Wooyoung winces.

Yeosang barely hears him over the blood rushing in his ears. _Not off to a great start_? No way. Their food is good, Yeosang knows it. He developed most of the recipes himself, and trusts his kitchen staff implicitly. Maybe he’s being arrogant—negative reviews _do_ happen… but not here. He can’t help the aggravation that bubbles up in his stomach.

Yeosang loves his restaurant. It’s small, not much bigger than a storefront with less than two dozen tables, and truly it gives him a headache more days than not, but it’s _his_ , and he’s proud of that. He’s _also_ proud of the little file he keeps in the back office stuffed with glowing reviews from local newspapers and magazines, plus the occasional printout of a particularly nice Yelp review—on which he has four-point-nine stars. He’s managed to cement himself as a local favorite in just a few short years.

And Yeosang does _not_ work his ass off running his restaurant for some—some _asshole_ to leave him a shitty review. Absolutely not.

“You good?” Wooyoung waves a hand in front of his face. 

“What’s his username?” Yeosang asks instead of answering.

“It’s mars-dot-psh,” Wooyoung says, and Yeosang is immediately pulling out his own phone to find the account. “Oh my god, are you going to message him?” At Yeosang’s silence, he laughs. “You probably shouldn’t slide into some guy’s DMs to yell at him over a review, Sangie.”

“I’m not going to yell, I just don’t want a shitty review published on us when we don’t deserve one,” Yeosang gestures at a plaque on the wall, an award they had received from a local food publication just a few months prior, “I’m asking him to come back in.” 

“I’d like to go on record as saying this is a bad idea, but _please_ let me know how he responds.”

While Wooyoung walks away to tend to their small dining area, wiping down tables and refilling napkin dispensers—actually _doing_ his morning duties—Yeosang stands dumbly in the middle of the kitchen with Park Seonghwa’s instagram profile open.

_Park Seonghwa. 26. Contributing food writer @SEmag @TheHerald._

His profile picture is himself, in black and white and so artsy that Yeosang has to roll his eyes at before finally messaging him. Usually messaging strangers out of the blue like this, even acquaintances, isn’t the easiest for Yeosang. But he’s so incensed that it’s easy to start tapping away—though he has to grit his teeth and rewrite several parts where his polite customer service voice lapsed—until he has a message he’s willing to send.

 **kysangs**  
Hey, I’m Kang Yeosang, the owner of Aurora Cafe. I saw that you didn’t have a great experience with us yesterday. I wanted to apologize for that, and invite you back to have another meal with us on the house so you can experience the quality we’re known for. Just let me know!

Yeosang cringes at the exclamation point as he hits send, a last-second addition that he sort of regrets. He stares at the open message for a minute, as if Park Seonghwa will respond immediately—he doesn’t. Yeosang shoves his phone into his pocket with a bit more force than necessary.

He spends the day moderately distracted and pissed off in his small office, making dumb mistakes while tallies up invoices and updates expense reports. Every time his phone buzzes, he fucks up a number, only to angrily correct it when he sees that it’s not a response to his message. He gives up for a while to work on menu revisions for the changing season, but even that gets frustrating after a while.

At least he’s hardly ever in the kitchen anymore, where it’d be far more dangerous for him to be this stupidly distracted. He checks in often, especially during busy periods, but it’s been a long while since he actually put on an apron and cooked something that went out to a table. If he’s not in his office, he’s more likely to be helping out in the dining area, managing incoming orders and occasionally working at the register—though even that’s not as common anymore. Wooyoung is an excellent house manager, and Yeosang rarely has to worry about things up front now.

He takes more than a few breaks to just scroll through Park Seonghwa’s instagram under the guise of waiting for his response. His posts are fairly evenly mixed between pretentious pictures of food and pretentious pictures of himself, which makes Yeosang roll his eyes but continue to scroll. He’s attractive, Yeosang will give him that, but a nice face can’t make up for the bad taste this guy must have to be so disappointed in Yeosang’s _award winning_ restaurant.

It’s almost closing time when his phone buzzes with a notification, startling him out of the daze he was in while staring at a spreadsheet. And this time— _finally_ , it’s a response.

 **mars.psh**  
Hi, thanks for reaching out. Unfortunately I don’t typically do repeat visits or sponsored reviews. I appreciate your offer, though. Have a good one. 

Yeosang feels his eye twitch. _Sponsored_ reviews? He resents the implication that he’s ever paid for a good review—it takes him a few tries to write a response without any profanity.

 **kysangs**  
I understand, and I certainly wasn’t interested in a sponsored review either. Your experience with us was just so abnormal given the rest of our reviews and ratings, and I wanted to rectify that.

Yeosang releases a frustrated huff of breath as he hits send. Their shop may be small, but even then he knows one crappy review won’t bankrupt them, or negate any of the praise they’ve received before—but it’s the _principle_ of it all. 

Yeosang watches the bubble that indicates Seonghwa is typing appear, before disappearing. The pattern continues for a few long moments of increasing frustration before he finally receives a response.

 **mars.psh**  
I only have availability tomorrow.

 **kysangs**  
Great! We open at 11.

Yeosang relaxes into his chair, finally pleased. He _knows_ his food is good, and he _knows_ Park Seonghwa will walk out tomorrow with nothing less than a five star review on his mind. Hauling himself out of his chair to go start the painstaking process of closing down the restaurant can’t even dampen his mood.

  


* * *

  


Park Seonghwa shows up at 11:10am.

Yeosang should probably be in his office, but he’s loitering behind the counter for no good reason. It was enough to annoy Wooyoung, who escaped to his lunch break despite the restaurant only just opening. It’s nearly empty save for a handful of tables, normal for this time of day before the lunch rush, so he spots Park Seonghwa as soon as he walks in. He stands out in a crowd, is all—nevermind the truly disturbing amount of time Yeosang spent scrolling through his instagram the previous day. 

“Hi, Park Seonghwa?” Yeosang greets once Seonghwa is at the counter. He’s just as annoyingly attractive in person as he is in his carefully posed and edited instagram photos, hair falling softly over his forehead in a way that is effortlessly messy but so very clearly styled. 

“Yes, you must be Kang Yeosang?” Seonghwa says, looking up at the menu behind the counter and only half paying attention to Yeosang. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Yep. Thanks for coming back,” Yeosang manages to get out, despite the fact that this should have easily been a five star review the first time he came. “Let me know if you have any questions about the menu.”

“Hmm,” Seonghwa looks down at him for a moment before his eyes flick back up to the menu. “I’ll have the soy-garlic glazed chicken.”

Yeosang smirks to himself as he punches the order into their point-of-sale system—that dish is one of his favorites. Yeosang distinctly remembers the laborious process of developing and fine-tuning the sauce recipe years ago, endlessly testing and retesting the smallest of tweaks to make it perfect. He stands by all of his menu items, but he knows this one in particular is one of the best. 

He belatedly notices Seonghwa handing over his card, and quickly waves a hand. “Oh no, I said it would be on the house.”

Seonghwa doesn’t relent, just sticks his card out a bit further. “I pay for all of the dishes I review so I can stay unbiased.”

Oh, _of course_. Yeosang wants to roll his eyes, but takes the card and rings up his order instead. He hands Seonghwa a small standee with the number 4 on it. “Just place that on your table and your food will be out in a minute.”

Seonghwa takes it without another word, before going to sit at one of the tables next to the window. Yeosang watches for a moment as he taps away at something on his phone, quickly looking away when Seonghwa glances up at him. He goes to check in on the kitchen instead.

With the restaurant pretty slow at this time of day, the order is done quickly. Yeosang waves off their lone server on duty to bring it to Seonghwa’s table himself. 

Seonghwa lifts one perfectly-manicured eyebrow when Yeosang approaches. “Does the owner usually wait tables?”

Yeosang feels a headache coming on. No, Yeosang _doesn’t_ usually wait tables. He hasn’t since they were big enough to hire serving staff in the first place, but Yeosang is going to be damn sure this guy gets the best service of his life so he can wipe the smirk off of his pretty face.

“We’re a little short staffed today,” He lies instead, before placing Seonghwa’s food on the table. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Hmm,” Seonghwa looks at his plate, considering for a moment. Yeosang feels a wave of annoyance well up in him, if this guy already has a complaint he’s going to lose his _mind_ —“Why don’t you sit with me?”

Yeosang’s mouth gapes open for a moment in surprise. “Uh…”

“Just so I can tell you my thoughts right away,” Seonghwa clarifies, “So you understand the reasoning behind my review.”

Yeosang considers it for a moment before sitting down across from Seonghwa—better to know now than to find out later via instagram story. “Alright then.”

Seonghwa seems to inspect the dish for a long moment, turning it this way and that. His face is the image of concentration, more fitting of someone performing a delicate task, not staring at a plate of chicken so hard he might burn holes through it.

“It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you’re trying to figure out.”

“Oh, no,” Seonghwa finally lets go of the plate in favor of a pair of chopsticks, “I like to develop a visual understanding of the dish before I actually taste it. It’s part of the experience.”

This time, Yeosang _does_ roll his eyes, leaning back a bit more in his chair. He understands the weight of aesthetics and presentation, but—did this guy really have to word it in the most pretentious way possible? “Alright, sure.”

Yeosang watches carefully as Seonghwa uses his chopsticks to tear off a piece of chicken—instead of just eating it with his hands like a human being—and brings it to his mouth. A distant part of Yeosang’s brain notes how soft his lips look, but that’s tamped down in favor of analyzing Seonghwa’s facial expressions as he chews abnormally slowly.

Seonghwa’s eyebrow lifts, but his face betrays nothing else. It’s infuriating. Yeosang keeps watching— and is probably staring uncomfortably—as Seonghwa takes another bite.

“Hmm,” Seonghwa hums, before taking a third bite, and then a fourth, a little less excruciatingly slow. “Hmm.”

Yeosang wants to slam his head against the table, but the restaurant is starting to fill up and that wouldn’t be a good look. His patience is running very thin. “Well?”

“It’s certainly _better_ this time…” Seonghwa starts, and Yeosang can already hear the _but_ in his voice. He takes another bite, considering, “I’m just not sure if it lives up to expectations.”

“What.” Yeosang just blinks for a moment—he doesn’t even know what that means. An irritated huff of breath escapes his mouth. “What does that mean in terms of the review?”

“An improvement from my first impression,” Seonghwa says, setting his chopsticks down. He clears his throat. “I—I wouldn’t say it’s five-star worthy, however.”

“Seriously?”

“Mm-hmm.” The look on Seonghwa’s face is too close to a smirk, and it boils Yeosang’s blood.

Who the _hell_ does this guy think he is? Irritation bubbles up in Yeosang full force, and he blames that for the way his brain clouds over and his mouth moves without permission: 

“Then come back.”

“What?” 

“Eat here one more time before you write your review.” Yeosang knows that Seonghwa visiting for a second time was already an exception, so he doesn’t even have a compelling argument to push for this. He shrugs, an attempt at nonchalance.

“Sure,” Seonghwa agrees quickly, and his expression is just as shocked as Yeosang feels, as if neither of them were expecting that to come out of his mouth.

“Oh, uh…” Yeosang starts, and stops. He didn’t think he’d get to this point, and flounders for a moment.

Seonghwa recovers quickly though, face melting back into an obnoxious smirk. “Does dinner on Tuesday work?”

  


* * *

  


Seonghwa strolls in at the tail-end of the dinner rush on Tuesday, adding one more item to the list of things currently giving Yeosang a headache.

He doesn’t have the time to play waiter today, too busy going over inventory and finalizing produce orders, but he does spot when Seonghwa walks in as he rushes between his office and the kitchen for the hundredth time that day.

Seonghwa has already ordered and found a table when Yeosang makes his way over. 

“Thanks for coming, again,” Yeosang says, though he doesn’t quite mean it. Seonghwa shouldn’t even need a repeat visit to know how good their food is.

“No problem.” Seonghwa nods. His hair is styled up and out of his face today, and it bounces just the slightest bit as he moves. Yeosang ignores it. “Are you not my server today?”

Yeosang rolls his eyes. “No, I have my own job to tend to. But I’ll check in.”

“Oh,” Seonghwa says, breaking eye contact. “Okay.”

“Enjoy your meal,” Yeosang says. He doesn’t mean it to sound like as much of a threat as it does.

He has to return to his office after that—he does actually have things to do—but during a trip between his office and the kitchen to ask about a menu change, he sees Seonghwa being served his food. He can’t help the way he stops and watches from behind the counter for a moment.

He can’t quite tell what Seonghwa ordered from this distance except that it’s a stew, the thick stone bowl obvious, but he can see Seonghwa’s expression change, eyebrows lifting. He does his stupid visual inspection of the whole thing, before he finally puts the dish down just as Yeosang is getting ready to give up watching and head back to his office. This time though, he doesn’t reach for a spoon right away.

Seonghwa reaches for his phone instead, and Yeosang watches in astonishment as he rearranges his place setting ever so slightly and holds his phone up to take a picture of the dish. Yeosang can barely contain a smirk. _Gotcha._

He doesn’t even have to see the pleased smile on Seonghwa’s face as he takes his first bite to know he’s _won_ , and he feels much lighter on his feet as he forgoes his trip back to his office to make a detour to Seonghwa’s table.

“Good?” Yeosang asks. He stands at the table for a moment before deciding to just sit down. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.”

Seonghwa hums around his mouthful of food before swallowing. “This is certainly better than my last two visits.”

Yeosang narrows his eyes. That’s not quite the answer he wanted. “...And does that mean five stars?”

Seonghwa makes a noise of consideration, taking another bite and sitting back in his seat. His lips are pursed and shiny with the broth. “I don’t think I’d feel comfortable awarding you _five_ stars. Three-point-five seems reasonable, I think. There’s potential here.”

Yeosang takes a deep breath. Something about Seonghwa’s tone makes this all the more infuriating, but he’s not one to make a scene. “I see.”

Yeosang can’t quite decipher what’s in Seonghwa’s eyes when he continues, “But maybe I need to try a different dish.”

Yeosang’s eyebrows spring up to his hairline, and he can feel the way Seonghwa is watching him carefully. “Oh?”

“Mm. What are your hours on Thursday?”

“We’re open from eleven until nine,” Yeosang recites.

“I’ll stop in for dinner again, then,” Seonghwa says, before taking another bite of his three-point-five star stew.

Yeosang can only blink back at him for a moment, before he finally releases an angry huff of breath. “Fine. I hope your taste buds work by then.”

  


* * *

  


Thursday comes slowly. Very slowly. 

Yeosang nearly deletes the instagram app off of his phone to remove the temptation to look at Seonghwa’s profile, _again_ , and he’s forced to endure endless teasing leading up to Thursday, courtesy of Wooyoung.

“ _Oh_ my god.” Wooyoung mimes wiping a tear of mirth from the corner of his eye between laughs, “I still can’t believe you invited Park Seonghwa back again.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Yeosang hisses. He’s slumped over the front counter instead of attending to the pile of paperwork sitting on his desk. The restaurant is mostly empty in those awkward between-lunch-and-dinner hours, anyways. “I can’t believe you’re still on this. He invited himself.”

“Pfft, like you weren’t half a second away from saying it first,” Wooyoung snorts, “I can’t believe _you’re_ still on this. We don’t need five stars in every damn magazine, Yeosangie.”

Yeosang just rolls his eyes. “That guy wouldn’t know good food if it hit him in the face.”

“He writes really great reviews though. Have you read any? He definitely knows what he’s talking about,” Wooyoung says.

Yeosang narrows his eyes. “Who’s side are you on?”

Wooyoung laughs, but holds his hands up in mock-surrender, “Hey, I’m just saying—”

He’s cut off when a couple walks up to order, and his expression changes to customer service mode as if someone hit a switch. “Hi, welcome to Aurora Cafe. What can I get you?”

Yeosang takes it as a sign to head back to his office and try to get some work done—though that quickly proves futile. Seonghwa is supposed to show up later in the evening, which has Yeosang on edge and distracted, and his thoughts quickly drift back to Wooyoung’s words. He feels like his hands have been possessed by an outside force as he continues to ignore his work in favor of googling Seonghwa’s name to find some of his articles.

He clicks on the first one he finds, on some food magazine website, and he intends to just skim the stupid thing—but ends up sucked into reading it in its entirety. And then a second one. A third. It’s after the fourth that Yeosang lets his face meet his desk with a frustrated sigh.

The articles _are_ good, true to Wooyoung’s words. Seonghwa obviously knows what he’s talking about when it comes to food and flavor profiles, aesthetics, and even culinary history. His reviews are thorough, and his more critical reviews of lower-scoring establishments somehow read like art in his graceful deconstructions of everything wrong. Yeosang likes food—hell, his life basically revolves around food—but he doesn’t think he could ever describe a dish as accurately and colorfully as Seonghwa does.

It only serves to make him a bit more pissed off. Seonghwa obviously knows what he’s talking about, but so does Yeosang—the quality of his own food isn’t a delusion, he has a drawer _full_ of proof next to him. So what the fuck gives?

His phone buzzes with a notification and jolts him out of his thoughts.

 **mars.psh**  
Hey, I had a work meeting come up and now I won’t be free until after you close.  
I don’t really know what my availability looks like for the next week or so, can we raincheck for now?

Yeosang frowns. He just wants this to be over with.

 **kysangs**  
just come in after close it’s fine

 **mars.psh**  
What??  
You’re sure?

 **kysangs**  
yeah, i’ve already decided what we’re serving you anyways

 **mars.psh**  
I don’t get to order anymore?

 **kysangs**  
no  
i think you’re picking things you know you won’t like

 **mars.psh**  
Haha  
Alright then  
I should be there around 9:15

  
By the time Seonghwa shows up, it’s pushing 9:30. Yeosang’s spent the better part of the last 20 minutes pacing between his office and kitchen, with a brief pit stop to pour himself a glass of wine from the stash he has buried in the walk-in fridge. It’s been a stressful day, he deserves it. He’s lucky that the only employees there are just a few of his kitchen staff, prepping their stations for the next day. Wooyoung is already gone for the day, or he’d never hear the end of this, either. 

A knock on the front window alerts Yeosang to Seonghwa’s arrival, and he rushes to unlock the door.

“Sorry for the delay,” Seonghwa says as he steps in. “Thank you for staying late.”

“It’s alright,” Yeosang says, “Just sit wherever, I’ll grab your food.”

Yeosang heads back into the kitchen to finish putting together Seonghwa’s plate, waving at the few employees still preparing sauces and cutting chicken wings for the next day when he walks back out.

“Here you are,” Yeosang says, bringing back a tray with an order of chicken—glazed with their house specialty sauce, their most popular dish—and a bowl of dumpling soup before he sits down. “Please enjoy.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widen for a moment as the food is placed in front of him, before he launches into his full visual inspection. Yeosang just watches and sips at his wine—it’s more amusing than annoying, somehow. 

Maybe it’s weird to look at a near-stranger so intently while they eat, but Yeosang watches Seonghwa’s face for any change in expression as he picks up a piece of chicken and takes a slow bite. He hums consideringly as he chews, tongue poking out to lick a drop of sticky sauce off of his lip. What looks like a hint of a smile crosses his lips as he takes a second bite.

“Good?” Yeosang asks.

Seonghwa nods as he swallows. “The sauce is very interesting,” He licks some off of his thumb, and Yeosang’s eyes track the movement, “What’s the sugar in this? I can tell it’s not honey.”

Yeosang smirks. “Family secret.”

Seonghwa eyes him. “What, really?”

“No,” Yeosang snorts a laugh, “It’s agave syrup. And plums.”

“ _Plums_ ,” Seonghwa nods to himself, like it should’ve been obvious, “That’s what I tasted.” He takes another bite. “How interesting.”

Satisfaction bubbles up in Yeosang before he can bother to push it down. He belatedly realizes he hadn’t served Seonghwa anything to drink, though. 

“Do you want a drink? Tea, or…” He glances down at the wine glass in his hand. It’d be impolite not to offer. “Well, we don’t actually serve alcohol, but I have wine, too.”

Seonghwa smiles, a smudge of oil still on his lips. “Wine sounds good.”

“Pairs great with chicken,” Yeosang says as he stands from the table to grab the bottle and another glass from the kitchen.

Seonghwa laughs at that. It’s a nice sound. “Oh I’m sure.”

Seonghwa’s visual inspection habit apparently doesn’t apply to his alcohol, Yeosang finds out when he returns, as he just swirls the wine in his glass around once or twice before taking a long sip. He grabs a spoon to try the soup, but pauses. 

“Ah, I’m being rude,” Seonghwa pushes the chicken towards the middle of the table, “Please eat too.” 

“Oh, thanks,” Yeosang says, a little surprised but he grabs a piece anyways. They eat in a mildly uncomfortable silence, broken only by the sound of the remaining staff still working in the kitchen and Seonghwa slurping at the soup. Yeosang tensely finishes his piece of chicken and dabs his mouth clean of any sauce before he finally breaks it. “So… you’re a journalist.”

It’s meant to be a question, but comes out more like a statement. A lame one, at that.

Seonghwa swallows his mouthful of dumpling before he responds. “Ah, yeah. It’s uh, what I went to university for.” He clears his throat, uncomfortable. “Did you, uh, did you go to culinary school?”

Yeosang snorts a laugh. “Oh god, no. I got halfway through a business degree before I dropped out. I worked at a different restaurant for a couple years before leaving to open this place.”

“Oh, wow. Did you always want to open your own restaurant?” Seonghwa asks. He grabs another piece of chicken.

“It was mostly just a pipe dream that I never seriously considered, but I liked working in a restaurant, so…” Yeosang is momentarily distracted by Seonghwa licking sauce from where it smeared on his lip as he took a bite. “—Uh, the loan was about as bad as going back to school anyways, so I did the one that sounded more fun. I think it ended up alright.” 

“Certainly seems so.” Seonghwa takes another bite of chicken, chewing slow and deliberate. “I see why this is your most popular dish.”

The compliment inexplicably makes Yeosang want to preen. 

“So, is giving small businesses unfair reviews your day job or…?” Yeosang says, teasingly. His righteous anger has mostly died down, but he can’t help but to poke fun.

Seonghwa makes a noise not unlike a squawk at the accusation. He catches Yeosang’s smirk though, and relaxes back into his seat with a huff of breath and a roll of his eyes. “Yes, most of what I work on is writing _unbiased_ restaurant and food reviews. But I also write on trends and current news related to food and the restaurant business, agriculture, things like that.”

“Did you always want to do that?”

“Ah, I knew I wanted to study journalism in school, but I wasn’t sure what exactly I wanted to do with it… I do love food though, both eating and studying it, so food journalism just seemed logical.”

Yeosang nods at that. “Makes sense. Sounds like a fun job, too.”

“It is.” Seonghwa smiles, small but genuine, and it brightens his face—Yeosang feels almost entranced by it.

Yeosang idly notes that it’s getting late when he hears the back entrance slam shut, signalling the departure of his kitchen staff. He ignores it, and refills their wine glasses. Seonghwa is actually nice to talk to, a welcome surprise to Yeosang who thought this encounter would be just as unpleasant as the rest. It’s quite easy to talk to him, though it may be helped by the wine. He’s found himself more than content to listen to Seonghwa’s stories—and he has many, from the restaurants he’s reviewed and the places he’s traveled to write on their local cuisine. Yeosang is enthralled.

“Do you have a favorite restaurant? In this city, I mean,” Yeosang eventually asks. Two days ago he wouldn’t imagine he’d actually want to know Seonghwa’s answer, but he does. He wants to know a lot about Seonghwa, he realizes.

“Ahh, that’s a tough one.” Seonghwa furrows his brow as he thinks. “How do you like seafood? There’s a place downtown that honestly has the best in the city, I think I’ve dreamed about their shellfish stew on occasion. The owners are nice people too, inherited the place from family a few years back.”

“I’ve never been, but I’ll have to try it sometime. I do like seafood,” Yeosang says, “And you clearly have very high standards, so it must be good.” 

Seonghwa laughs good naturedly at the teasing. “I do. I’ll have to show you my favorite dishes there sometime.”

Yeosang pauses. Was that... an invitation, or…? 

“Um—” Yeosang shifts in his seat, sending his elbow into the container of silverware sitting on one end of the table. It clatters to the floor loudly, sending silverware flying across the floor and startling them both. “Oh fuck.”

Seonghwa chuckles, but he kneels on the ground just as Yeosang does to help pick up all the spilled spoons and chopsticks. “You alright?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Yeosang says, flustered by his own clumsiness. He tosses the utensils back into the container to bring back to the kitchen. “Wasn’t paying attention.”

Yeosang looks up from the floor, and Seonghwa is right there, crouched in front of him and _far_ closer than he realized. So close, in fact, that Yeosang is pretty sure he can smell his cologne. He watches Seonghwa pick up spoons for a moment, watches the way his coiffed hair bounces ever so slightly when he shifts, before Seonghwa finally looks up and meets his eyes. 

Seonghwa eyes widen for a moment, as if he too didn’t realize they were so close, before relaxing. A gentle smile plays over his features, not the smirk Yeosang has gotten so used to. “Hey.”

“Hi.” The air around Yeosang seems to stand still.

Seonghwa licks his lips absentmindedly, and something hot ignites in Yeosang’s stomach over it. His eyes track over Seonghwa’s face, his sharp nose and soft looking—now slightly wet—lips, and he finds himself drawn in unconsciously. Seonghwa is too, leaning in as bright eyes go heavy-lidded.

Yeosang’s eyes are about to drift closed when a spoon slips from Seonghwa’s grasp and hits the floor—Yeosang jumps back and nearly falls on his ass. 

“Shit.” 

Seonghwa startles too, before picking up the spoon and scrambling back to his feet, reaching down to help Yeosang up, too. Standing, they’re still far too close, and the few inches of height Seonghwa has on him are annoyingly obvious at this proximity. 

“So, Yeosang, um…” Seonghwa trails off then, shifting on his feet like he’s not sure what to say. 

Yeosang can’t bring himself to step out of his space. He looks over at the table to avoid Seonghwa’s eyes instead, where he finally notices that they’ve long since finished the food. He’s suddenly thankful for a distraction, the reminder of what they’re actually here for. He clears his throat. “...Well, what’s the verdict? Will you write us a five star review?”

“Huh? ...Oh.” Seonghwa looks a little caught off guard at the change in topic, but quickly recovers. That infuriating smirk melts back onto his face. He’s still in Yeosang’s space—if anything, he leans in more. “It was good, but I don’t know if I can write a five star review—”

“ _What_?” The heat building up in Yeosang’s stomach fizzles out in an instant, his cautious indulgence in Seonghwa’s presence fading. The irritation that had long since faded bubbles up again instead, coming to the surface before he can even blink, and he takes a wide step back. “Seriously? _Still_?”

Seonghwa reels, seemingly not expecting the change in mood—even though it’s _his_ fault, which only serves to irritate Yeosang even more. He takes a step backwards, holds his hands up placatingly. “Wait—”

“Come after close next Thursday,” Yeosang cuts him off again, carefully suppressing the expletives that want to spill out. He doesn’t quite care to hear the reason why now. It had been going so _well_ , better than well, if only for a moment. He almost forgot what they were even here for. “Same time. And then you can rate us whatever you want.”

Seonghwa stands stunned for a moment, mouth opening and closing a few times. His face contorts almost like he’s in pain before he finally says something. “I—uh, are you sure?”

Yeosang is already clearing the dishes from the table. “You don’t have to.”

Seonghwa sighs, almost like he wants to say something else, but must decide against it. He tosses the spoon still in his hand into the container. “Yeah, next Thursday. I’ll come back.”

  


* * *

  


Seonghwa actually does show up the following Thursday, knocking politely on the front entrance at 9:30pm exactly.

Yeosang almost wasn’t expecting him to actually show up again. He’d been tempted to call the whole thing off himself, message Seonghwa and tell him not to come in again, just for the sake of his own sanity—but he doesn’t. He should, but he doesn’t. Irritation and clear interest war in his head enough to give him a headache. Part of him wants to see Seonghwa again just to wipe the smarmy look off of his face, with his fist preferably, though he can’t deny the part of his brain that would like to do it with his mouth instead.

Seonghwa seems almost a little sheepish as he walks in and follows Yeosang to a table. “Hey, Yeosang—”

“Let me grab your food,” Yeosang says, cutting him off and striding back to the kitchen. He knows it’s rude, but he just wants to get this over with, not quite interested in sharing a glass of wine or doing—whatever it is they almost did last time.

This time, Yeosang cooked himself. It had been a while since he was in the kitchen actually making something for a customer, and—it was surprisingly relaxing, unwound some of the tension he’d built up in his shoulders just thinking about tonight. The spicy beef soup he made was still technically being tested and not quite on the menu yet, but what Seonghwa didn’t know wouldn't hurt him. Besides, it was already one of Yeosang’s favorites. He prepared chicken again too, his own blend of the sauces they offer, cooked down with a bit more garlic and sugar to suit his tastes.

He’d been nearly done when Seonghwa arrived, so it was only a few minutes and a quick plating later that he brought the food back out to him.

“Enjoy,” Yeosang says simply, before sitting opposite Seonghwa. He watches Seonghwa _visually inspect_ the whole thing with an eye roll barely contained. Once Seonghwa grabs a piece of chicken, Yeosang snags one for himself—he figures he doesn’t need to wait for an offer anymore.

Yeosang can’t help but hold his breath once Seonghwa finally, _finally_ takes a bite. Seonghwa’s eyes widen minutely as he chews slowly, before he takes another bite and makes a pleased noise. Yeosang allows himself to feel a bit smug—though clearly, it’s been earned.

Seonghwa moves onto the soup next, and his eyes actually _close_ as he savors that first bite, humming with his enjoyment. Yeosang watches sharply, his own food forgotten as he watches the clear satisfaction on Seonghwa’s face while he slurps another spoonful.

“This is _incredible_ ,” Seonghwa says. “Truly. Is this a new sauce flavor on the chicken, too?”

Yeosang feels the beginnings of a smile creep onto his face, and relaxes a bit more into his seat. Seonghwa’s compliments are disarming. “It’s a blend. I cooked everything myself, today.”

Seonghwa’s eyebrows raise at that but he doesn’t say anything else, too busy putting down another spoonful of soup.

Yeosang watches Seonghwa take a few more bites before he gets straight to the point this time—no more small talk. “Is it five stars then?”

Part of Yeosang expects another cocky smile, the stupid smug look Seonghwa’s been wearing every time he visits, even after Seonghwa has _clearly_ enjoyed his food. Yeosang wouldn’t put it past him. What he doesn’t expect is for Seonghwa’s face to contort strangely—not unlike that last night he was here—before finally settling on embarrassment. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“Listen, Yeosang… to be completely honest, the review is already written,” Seonghwa says, putting his spoon down gently.

Yeosang blanches. “You… you’re still going to post the bad review? You said it was _incredible_ , Seonghwa, what the hell—”

“No, no,” Seonghwa waves his hands frantically, and Yeosang snaps his mouth shut. Seonghwa looks like he would rather be anywhere else as he continues, “I rewrote it after I was here the second time. You can read it before I send it out if you want, but it’s five stars.”

“You—you… _what_?”

“I was going to tell you last week, I swear, I just… didn’t go about it very well. And then I knew I had upset you, so I didn’t want to push it…”

Yeosang can only blink back at him, mind reeling. Seonghwa enjoyed his food the whole time?

Seonghwa stands to take a nervous step backwards towards the door. “And you were rightfully upset. I’m very sorry.”

“Oh my god.” It takes Yeosang a moment to respond. The usual rush of irritation he feels around Seonghwa has yet to bubble up. He stands, finally, taking a step towards Seonghwa, who mirrors it with another step back towards the door. “Seriously? _Why_?”

Seonghwa manages to look even more mortified at that. “Yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. I just, uh, I wanted to get to know you more?” He shifts from one foot to the other. “...and the food _is_ really good.”

Yeosang can’t quite do anything but laugh, the sound spilling out of him before he can stop it. “Oh my _god_.”

“Again, I’m _really_ sorry. I know it was completely inappropriate, and awful, and I’ll get out of your hair—”

“You could have just asked me out like a normal person, idiot. I would’ve said yes,” Yeosang blurts. And—well, it’s _true_ , when Yeosang thinks about it, his head clearer than it’s been all day now that he _knows_. He was ready to do a bit more than agree to a date just last week.

“I, I—Oh.” Seonghwa stops in his slow shuffle towards the door. “Really?”

“Yes?” Yeosang scoffs, and gestures manically at Seonghwa’s...everything. “I’m not blind. And you’re good company when you’re not writing unfair reviews on my restaurant. I actually had a good time last week, even with…” He waves his hand vaguely. “You know.”

“Oh,” Seonghwa repeats. “Would you… would you still? Say yes, I mean.”

Yeosang smirks, and takes a few steps forward. Now, air cleared, it’s easy for that low simmer of attraction to reach the surface once more. The passion of irritation easily melds into… something else. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

Yeosang nods, stepping fully into Seonghwa’s space now. There’s nearly sharing the same breath. “I might need some convincing to forgive you first.”

“Oh,” Seonghwa breathes out. “How… how might I go about that?”

“A kiss might be a good start, I think,” Yeosang says, and Seonghwa doesn’t hesitate to lean in and close the distance between them.

Seonghwa kisses slow at first, cautious even as he tilts his head to slot their lips together. He’s warm, and his lips are just as soft as Yeosang thought they would be. His hands move to rest gently on Yeosang’s waist.

Yeosang can’t help but sigh into the kiss, responding to the slow pace Seonghwa sets with languid presses of his lips. He moves in closer, pressing his body to Seonghwa’s. He runs his hands up Seonghwa’s sides, the hem of his sweater lifting slightly.

“I won’t break,” Yeosang mumbles against Seonghwa’s lips when it’s clear he has no intention of picking up the pace.

Seonghwa pulls back slightly to huff a laugh, but he listens, the press of his lips harder when he connects them again. He tightens his hands on Yeosang’s waist when their kisses go a bit more open-mouthed. 

The low simmer becomes a full-on fire in Yeosang’s stomach as he darts his tongue out to slide againsts Seonghwa’s, foregoing finesse in favor of taking _more_. His hands bunch up in Seonghwa’s sweater, pulling him even closer. There’s a moan ripped straight from his throat when Seonghwa sucks on his tongue.

Yeosang has to pull away to breathe after a few moments, though the distance lets him see how flushed Seonghwa’s cheeks are, the way his pupils are blown wide.

Seonghwa licks his lips, and Yeosang watches the movement carefully. “Was that… convincing?”

“Hmm.” Yeosang hooks a finger through one of Seonghwa’s belt loops to pull him close, pressing their hips flush together. “You might need to work a little harder.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widen a bit at that. “Here?”

Yeosang shrugs, but loosens his grip on Seonghwa so he can pull away if he wants. “I don’t mind.”

Seonghwa takes a cursory glance around the empty dining area, considering for a moment. “If you’re sure.”

“What’s the worst that can happen? The owner finds out?” Yeosang says, laughing when Seonghwa just scoffs in response. “Would I have to fire myself or—”

Seonghwa shuts him up by kissing him again, which Yeosang is more than agreeable to, responding enthusiastically. His hands migrate up Yeosang’s sides to rest on his back and pull him in impossibly close. Seonghwa kisses purposefully, methodically mapping out Yeosang’s mouth with his tongue, making Yeosang feel a bit weak in the knees. It’s a relief when Seonghwa guides him backwards until the backs of Yeosang’s knees finally come in contact with the edge of a chair. 

Yeosang lets Seonghwa push him gently into sitting down, pulling away from his mouth with a sharp inhale. The breath gets caught in Yeosang’s throat when Seonghwa drops to his knees in front of Yeosang without another word. 

Seonghwa slides his hands up from Yeosang’s knees to the tops of his thighs, where he squeezes gently. “Is this alright?”

Yeosang nods, maybe a bit too fast. He lets his knees fall open a bit more. “Yeah—yes, that’s alright.”

Seonghwa smiles once he’s granted permission, dragging his fingertips over the growing tenting in Yeosang’s pants before finally unbuttoning him, tugging down his pants and boxers just enough to have room.

Yeosang groans appreciatively when Seonghwa finally gets a hand around him, stroking him to full hardness. Seonghwa looks at him intently as he strokes, eye-level with Yeosang’s crotch and tilting his head almost in appraisal. 

“Please do not _visually inspect_ my dick like a dish you’re about to review,” Yeosang says, between breaths that are steadily getting heavier.

Seonghwa snorts a laugh. “I’m about to eat, aren’t I?”

Yeosang looks up at the ceiling, unable to meet Seonghwa’s eyes or look at his gorgeous smirking face anymore. “I can’t stand you.”

“Shall I give you my full review after?” 

“ _Hey_ , I thought this was about _you_ apologizing to _me_ ,” Yeosang says, and maybe it’s a bit of a whine. He resists the urge to cant his hips up into Seonghwa’s hold.

“Sorry, sorry, you’re right,” Seonghwa laughs again, but is blessedly quiet after. 

Seonghwa finally, _finally_ wraps those soft lips around Yeosang’s cock, and Yeosang thinks that it might have been worth the wait. Seonghwa works into a rhythm quickly, one hand wrapped around the base and the other holding tightly to Yeosang’s thigh. He easily reduces Yeosang to labored breathing and half-muffled moans.

Yeosang clutches the edge of his seat with one hand to ground himself, but he lets the other drift into Seonghwa’s hair. It’s down again today, not sculpted out of Seonghwa’s face with gel, and Yeosang takes great delight in tangling his fingers in the soft strands. He finally looks back down at Seonghwa, brushing his bangs away from his face. Like this, Yeosang can rake his eyes over Seonghwa’s prettily flushed face, his eyes closed in concentration, those damn _lips_ wrapped around his cock. 

The satisfied sounds Seonghwa lets out while enthusiastically bobbing his head are not unlike the sounds he makes while savoring a particularly good bite of food, which Yeosang finds hot and disconcerting in equal measure. He realizes with a groan that this probably isn’t going to last much longer. 

“ _Ah_ , fuck,” Yeosang bites out when Seonghwa flicks his tongue particularly cleverly. “I’m close, _jesus_.” Seonghwa only seems more determined with that, picking up the pace he’s set. 

Seonghwa pulls off when Yeosang’s swearing gets a bit more unintelligible, going back to stroking Yeosang off with his hand. His other hand squeezes almost painfully at Yeosang’s thigh, and that’s what sends Yeosang over the edge with a gasp, spilling over Seonghwa’s fingers. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Yeosang says once he’s spent, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. He can feel the sweat on him already cooling as he comes down.

“So eloquent,” Seonghwa teases, reaching up for a napkin from the holder on the table. He dabs delicately at his mouth before wiping off his hands. He’s still knelt on the ground between Yeosang’s legs, and very turned on if his flushed face and dark eyes are any indication. Yeosang can see the tenting in his pants when he glances down. 

Yeosang gently nudges Seonghwa’s legs open further with his foot, dragging the toe of his shoe teasingly up Seonghwa’s inner thigh. He stops short of where his gaze is fixed. “Need some help there?”

“That’d be nice,” Seonghwa breathes out, his voice affected with arousal, and Yeosang takes that as a cue to slip from his chair and onto the floor. Seonghwa clambers into Yeosang’s lap of his own accord, seating himself on Yeosang’s thighs—and it’s a little awkward, just sitting on the ground—but Yeosang knows neither of them have the patience for anything else.

Seonghwa connects their lips right away, and it’s hard to unbutton Seonghwa’s pants without quite being able to see what he’s doing, but Yeosang manages to and slips a hand into his boxers. Seonghwa tenses when Yeosang wraps a hand around him, groaning beautifully when Yeosang starts into a rhythm.

The angle is a little uncomfortable, and it’s a bit dry despite Yeosang’s attempts to make it easier by spitting in his hand every once in a while, but it’s enough for Seonghwa, who rocks his hips into Yeosang’s hand and makes the prettiest noises in his ear.

“I can’t believe you told me my restaurant was bad for _weeks_ ,” Yeosang says, apropos of nothing.

“I never said it was _bad_ ,” Seonghwa manages to gasp out, and then: “ _Is this really the time_?”

“I’ll stop right now, don’t test me,” Yeosang teases, though he has no intention of doing so.

“ _Fuck_ , please don’t,” Seonghwa says, and it’s not really a whine but it’s close enough that Yeosang feels a bit like he’s won anyways. Yeosang speeds up, just to hear the gasp it pulls from him.

Seonghwa’s quiet when he comes a few moments later, stilling in Yeosang’s hold and biting just this side of too hard into Yeosang’s lip. 

They pant together for a few moments before Yeosang extracts a sticky hand from Seonghwa’s pants, not bothering to reach for a napkin quite yet. He delights in how wonderfully frazzled Seonghwa looks, his hair a mess and lips swollen to look even more plump than they usually are, though Yeosang knows he’s in the same state himself.

“Was that,” Seonghwa clears his throat, “Was that five stars?”

Yeosang laughs, both at the question and the dawning realization of the absurdity of this whole thing, which prompts a laugh from Seonghwa in turn, until they’re both just chuckling on the floor. When they finally quiet down, Yeosang answers: “I’d say it was a solid three-point-five.”

“What?” Seonghwa squawks, offended, “That was not just a _three-point-five_.”

“Don’t worry,” Yeosang swats gently at Seonghwa’s flank with his clean hand, “I’d be happy to let you practice. Maybe after that date you want to take me on?”

Seonghwa smiles at that, almost a little bashful as he dips his head slightly. “A three-point-five was enough to convince you?”

“Oh definitely. I can see there’s potential here,” Yeosang says, parroting Seonghwa’s words back at him. He watches Seonghwa cover his face with his hands in embarrassment and feels a bit of fondness start to bloom in his chest, so Yeosang thinks it might be true, anyways.

**Author's Note:**

> ahhh hope you enjoyed! this was fun even though i gotta say it was hard to write yeosang as a restaurant owner after seeing what he did to that egg in his vlog LMAO 
> 
> if you liked this, kudos & comments especially are incredibly appreciated and keep me fed while i continue to write :> and you can always find me and yell in my direction on [twitter](https://twitter.com/himbohwa) or [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/himbohwa), i'm @himbohwa on both!
> 
> thanks again for reading <3


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